


all eyes on me

by imagines



Series: AMDAO Verse [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Explicit Consent, Fingering, IT'S ALL JUST SMUT FOLKS, Jeans, M/M, Rimming, Voyeurism, Yuri is 17, cute fluffy smut with feelings, day 1: getting together, is jeans kink a thing? it is now, yoipolyshipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: This entire night, Otabek has been experiencing a side of Yuri he’s never encountered, starting with the Europeans afterparty. It hasn’t stopped yet. “I’ve never seen you get shy before,” Otabek says.“Yeah, well.” In the middle of their hotel room, Yuri stands barefoot and shirtless, fidgeting with the button on his jeans. “I’ve only done this with you.”(Otabek joins Yuri at Europeans to watch him compete; things get wild at the afterparty. AMDAO prequel.)





	all eyes on me

**Author's Note:**

> Finally had to make myself a timeline to keep track of everything happening in AMDAO verse. :p So if you're wondering, this takes place in January of the same year AMDAO occurs.
> 
> Endless blessings & love to seekingsquake and seaworn for their encouragement, brainstorming, and sheer joyous yelling. Love you both!! xxoo
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _There's only two types of people in the world_  
>  _The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe_  
>  _Well baby I'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl_  
>  _Don't like the backseat, gotta be first_  
>  Britney Spears - "Circus"

This entire night, Otabek has been experiencing a side of Yuri he’s never encountered, starting with the Europeans afterparty. It hasn’t stopped yet. “I’ve never seen you get shy before,” Otabek says.

“Yeah, well.” In the middle of their hotel room, Yuri stands barefoot and shirtless, fidgeting with the button on his jeans. “I’ve only done this with you.”

Chris is lounging in one of those wingback chairs that are omnipresent in hotel rooms, but at Yuri’s words, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to take those off,” he says.

“I _know_ ,” Yuri snaps, but Otabek gives him a look and he softens his tone. “I know,” he repeats. “But—what do you guys want to do?”

Otabek sets his hands on Yuri’s shoulders and brushes a kiss against his cheek. “Right now it’s all about what you want.”

Yuri folds against him, wrapping his arms around Otabek and twisting his fingers into the back of Otabek’s t-shirt. “I don’t know where to start,” Yuri breathes. “I want so much.”

“All right.” Otabek combs his fingers through Yuri’s hair, past his shoulders now, until Yuri’s eyes flutter closed and he sighs. “Let’s start with an easy one: do you want me to touch you?”

Yuri nods hard against his shoulder. “Always. Anywhere.”

Otabek feels his own breath shake. By now there isn’t an inch of Yuri’s skin that Otabek hasn’t touched, kissed, loved. “Do you want Chris to touch you?”

Yuri is silent for a moment. “Maybe,” he says finally, “but I’m not sure.”

“Do you want him to look at you?”

“I want him to watch us,” Yuri mumbles into his neck, and white-hot sparks jolt up Otabek’s spine; his pants are suddenly far too tight. Too bad for him that he isn’t planning on removing them tonight. Yuri laughs, rolling his hips forward. “You like that.”

Otabek pulls his head back a bit so Yuri can’t miss him rolling his eyes. “Was it not obvious at the afterparty?”

“It was,” Yuri says happily. The tension’s gone out of him, and he looks over his shoulder at Chris. “Right?”

Chris gives a delicate cough. “Do you mean when you looked me dead in the eye and stage-whispered ‘Someone’s watching us’ to him? Or when you started dancing with him and turned your back to me so he could see me, and then he stuck his fingers down the back of your pants?”

“Mmm… Either. Both.” Yuri turns back to Otabek, grabs his hands, and pulls. “Come to bed with me?”

They lie down together, Yuri tucking himself close against Otabek’s side. Over and over, Otabek grazes his nails down Yuri’s chest, until faint pink lines cover him from throat to navel and he’s wriggling at every touch.“Are you sure about this?” Otabek asks.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri assures him. “You?”

“Yura, yes, I want to give you everything you want.” Otabek pushes at Yuri’s hip until he turns over to lie flat on his stomach, then sits up so that he’s kneeling beside Yuri.

These are Yuri’s favorite jeans, the dark blue denim worn soft and smooth. Otabek runs his palms down the backs of Yuri’s thighs, then slowly up the inseams. He cups one hand between Yuri’s legs, reveling in the gasp Yuri stifles against a pillow.

Otabek glances off to the side, where Chris has pulled an ottoman up to his chair and made himself comfortable. He would appear utterly relaxed—except his teeth are clamped hard on his lower lip, and his chest rises and falls far too evenly.

Otabek trails his fingertips up to the waistband of Yuri’s jeans, then slides his hand inside. It’s a tight fit, but there’s just enough room that he can curl his fingers and tease them against Yuri’s hole. Yuri squirms against his hand, whimpering, while Otabek presses kisses all over his shoulderblades. He could do this for a very long time—he’s done so before, petting Yuri just like this, keeping him on the brink until he’s pleading, and then awhile longer.

This time, Yuri doesn’t let him draw things out. Within minutes, he gets his knees under him so he can push against Otabek’s fingers. Otabek _tsks_ at him and withdraws his hand. “Not yet,” he says. Then he touches Yuri’s lower back. “Lie down again for me. Let me take care of you.”

Yuri grates out something unintelligible but probably insulting, judging from his tone, and he drops flat again with a huff.

Otabek straddles Yuri’s legs and lowers himself carefully until he’s resting on his forearms, caging Yuri with his body. He presses himself against Yuri’s ass, and Yuri moans brokenly. Otabek kisses him behind his ear. “I know,” he murmurs. “I want it too. But you wanted to put on a show, right?”

“So let’s put on a fucking show already,” Yuri retorts.

Otabek smiles against the back of Yuri’s neck, letting Yuri feel his teeth. “You got it.” Then he slides down Yuri’s body, pushing his legs further apart and pinning him by the backs of his thighs. Yuri’s already leaking into his jeans; Otabek can smell it. He bends low and mouths at Yuri’s crotch where the fabric is damp, breathing hot against him.

“God _damn_ it—” Yuri works his hands underneath himself to unzip his jeans and arches his hips off the bed to shove them down his legs. They get caught at his knees, along with his underwear, hobbling him. Otabek wraps one arm under him and pulls him onto his knees, then dives forward again and buries his mouth between Yuri’s cheeks. He doesn’t start with tongue; that’s for later, when Yuri starts begging. Instead, he kisses him: the soft underside of his balls, his perineum, and finally his clenching hole. Yuri’s thighs start to shake, and his breathing goes short and high-pitched, but still he says nothing. Otabek lets the kissing get messy, mouthing at him slow and soft until his hole shines wet.

Then Yuri begs. Otabek locks his mouth onto Yuri and pushes _hard_ , licking into him deep and sloppy.

There’s a harsh intake of breath from the chair. “Can I, ahh…” Chris’s voice is very quiet. “Is it all right with you if I…”

From the corner of his eye, Otabek can see Chris’s hands trembling on his legs. He pats at the side of Yuri’s thigh.

“Huh?” Yuri mumbles. “Oh god. Yeah, do it, _fuck—_ ”

Soft sounds reach them: a zipper opening, fabric rustling, the muted brush of skin against skin. Otabek gets a rhythm going, working Yuri open on his tongue.

Then, like sheet lightning, an image flashes bright across Otabek’s mind, and he draws back. “I have an idea,” he tells Yuri.

Yuri slaps his palm against the sheets, grinding back on thin air. “Fuck, Beka—”

“Shh, Yura. Come here.” Otabek eases Yuri upright, tugs Yuri’s jeans the rest of the way off, and nudges at his legs until he swings them over the edge of the bed.

Yuri stands up to face Chris, swaying slightly.

Otabek wraps one arm around Yuri’s chest; with his other hand, he traces small circles on Yuri’s belly. “You good?” he asks.

Yuri nods, a little frantic. “Good. Great. Beka, _please—_ I need it—”

Otabek drags his mouth down the shell of Yuri’s ear, distracting him while Otabek slicks up his fingers. “Look at him,” he whispers. Chris’s shirttail is rumpled around his stomach and he’s got one hand jammed into his pants; the other grips the arm of the chair, white-knuckled. “He’s a mess already from watching you.” Then he reaches down and hooks two fingers inside Yuri.

Yuri’s spine curves taut like a drawn bow; he throws his hand back and grabs for anything, gets ahold of Otabek’s hair and hangs on, crying out through gritted teeth.

Otabek kisses his neck. “I’ve got you,” he says. Yuri’s body opens easily to him, the rim of his hole silky and pliant, and it’s not long until Yuri’s thrashing in his grasp, his knees buckling; but Otabek tightens the arm across Yuri’s chest and holds him upright. “You won’t fall. I’ve got you. Let go, Yura, _come for us_ —” and Yuri’s curling forward against Otabek’s arm, spilling all over himself, his feet, the carpet; Chris swears like a sigh and closes his eyes.

There’s a silence like the moment after the music cuts off and the audience hasn’t yet processed what kind of black-magic firebolt of a program just blew craters in their minds. And then Yuri’s turning in Otabek’s arms and clinging to him, sticky and sweaty and utterly gorgeous. “ _You_ ,” he says into Otabek’s shirt collar.

Otabek smooths his palms up and down Yuri’s back, until Yuri finally takes a deep breath and lets it out.

“I am going to lie down,” Yuri declares. “And both of you should come with me.” He extracts himself from Otabek and flops into the middle of the bed on his back, kicking his abandoned jeans to the floor. He does not bother to pull the sheet over himself.

Otabek goes to join him, and after a moment, Chris rises from his chair to settle tentatively on the other side of Yuri.

“Thanks for coming to watch me,” Yuri says to the ceiling, and Otabek glances at Chris, who looks just as uncertain about who Yuri’s speaking to. Then Yuri laughs. “ _Skate_ ,” he clarifies, nuzzling into Otabek’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came to see me _skate_. But, you know—” and he turns to Chris— “thanks for watching me too.”

Chris hides a grin under his hand. “My pleasure.”

Yuri’s looking only slightly less pleased than he was at the medal ceremony. “I’m sure it fucking was.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And [come say hi @ tumblr](http://meimagino.tumblr.com). :)


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